May I
by FeatherxxDreams
Summary: Damian and Dick work together for the first time in years. Censored Version. 16!Damian. (1/1)


**This is not the full version. The full version of this story is 4500+ words and is rated NC17, which will be located at my Tumblr (with links to NSFW GIF inspiration) and my Ao3 account. Both of those links are in my profile and WARNING, THE FULL VERSION CONTAINS SEXUAL CONTENT. THIS IS RATED T. THAT IS RATED M!**

**:::**

Nightwing lands on the rooftop with practiced grace, gazing out at the cold lights of Gotham's skyline. His arm feels bruised from where some thug managed to slice his Kevlar. Luckily he hadn't bled (that would have incurred a lecture he didn't want to hear) and he'd taken the thug out with a well-aimed strike to the throat. His ankle throbs from a fall he took earlier in the night trying to stop a kidnapping and grand theft auto at the same time. For the time of night it is, he has a surprisingly low injury count.

"Oracle to Nightwing, how is it looking up there?"

Nightwing brings a hand up to his ear, pressing the microphone hidden there so he can reply, "Pretty quiet up here, O. I think I took care of every petty crime in the city tonight."

Oracle hums, "It won't be quiet for much longer."

"Explanation, please?" Nightwing laughs, stepping up on the ledge of the building and looking for a good place to jump to. Every so often Nightwing leaves his grapple behind, preferring to relive his acrobatic tendencies. Tonight is one of those nights.

"I'm sending Bluebird out to your location." Oracle says. Her tone implies that she's waiting to hear Nightwing's reaction.

"Bluebird?" Nightwing drops off the ledge, back onto the roof, and plants his ass where his feet had been, "How long has he been back in town?"

"Since last night, from what I understand. He had lunch with Red Hood," Oracle snorts at that, "We all should have known they would end up as the troubled twosome."

Nightwing hesitates to continue conversation. He may have not be close to Damian anymore given the last three years of radio silence between them but it's surprising that Oracle knows Damian is back before Dick himself does.

"Who else knows?" He asks.

"Eveyone," Oracle says, "Red Robin still lives with B and the girls were visiting when he got back yesterday. I guess you would be the last one."

"Oh."

"And how does that make you feel?" He can hear the grin in Oracle's voice.

"Shut up, O." Nightwing scowls.

"I'm joking," Oracle doesn't sound the least bit sorry, "His ETA is T-minus one minute, so I'd get ready for some chilly weather up there."

"Thanks, O, I really needed this tonight," Nightwing sighs. He hopes the sarcasm is more obvious than the nerves.

"I always have your best interests at heart," Oracle laughs, disconnecting from Nightwing's channel.

Nightwing turns the microphone off, scowling at his feet. Oracle obviously did not have his interests at heart if she thought putting Damian and he together on patrol would encourage anything but competition. Damian had always tried to compete with him, even as his Robin. Nightwing shudders to think about how the boy will act now that he has his own identity.

He stands, turning and jumping smoothly back onto the ledge. "Give me patience, please," he whispers to the night air.

Below him, a dark silhouette is grappling through the air heading his way. Nightwing is tempted to jump off the roof and pretend to go stop a mugging but he is the adult out of the two of them and really, he doesn't even know how Damian is going to treat him.

Damian, Bluebird, lands on the ledge a few feet away from him. He isn't looking at Nightwing, not yet, one hand at his ear while the other retracts the grapple line. Nightwing can only assume Oracle or one of the other Bats is on the line, so he takes the time to survey Damian's new look.

At sixteen, Damian's gained a few inches in the height department. Instead of becoming stocky or broad like Bruce, he's lean and lithe. His uniform seems to consist of a onesie, much like his old Nightwing suit. There are no armored plates or gauntlets, just smooth fabric that encases his fingers. Dick has to blink a few times to make sure that, yes, those are blue bands going down his arm that turn into finger stripes. The entire costume is like a tribute to when he wore blue with the simple exception of their symbol. Damian's outfit is completely bare of a symbol and unlike the Nightwing suit, he has a pitch black utility belt strung diagonally around his waist. His domino mask is the same light blue that the finger stripes are in as well as the latches on all of the utility belt's pockets.

And damn it all if the outfit doesn't make Damian look ridiculously good.

"-tt-" Dick recognizes the familiar phrase (can it be considered a phrase if it's really only a sound effect?) as Damian drops his hand. He takes it to mean that Damian is no longer on a channel.

"Long time no see, little bird." Dick greets.

Damian narrows his eyes, or Dick assumes as the whites of his mask get thinner, "Do_ not_ call me by that nickname. I am not a child."

"You sort of are," Dick says. Sixteen may be teenaged but he was no adult either.

They fall into silence but Dick can't help the surge of questions going through his mind. Where had Damian been these last three years? Why was Jason the only one who knew anything about Damian, the only one who communicated with him, and the only one Damian returned communication with? What had he been up to?

Dick glances at him with what he hopes is discretion. "Hey, your hair is longer."

It's still in spikes, just not so close to his skull. In fact, it ruffles in the wind a little.

"-tt- I see you haven't changed."

"What?"

Damian's hand suddenly flies to his earpiece, "Blue here…right…got it." He drops his hand, "Hood says there's a bank heist going down on 5th. He's too far away and asked us to take it."

"You're wired to Jason's personal frequency?"

Damian shoots off a line, not bothering to ask if Dick _doesn't_ want to follow, "No names in the field."

He dives off the rooftop win an arc that would have made Dick jealous if he was still in his scaly green panties. Dick stares after him in partial awe, partial annoyance, then follows after. Damian is barely staying in Dick's view thanks to Dick working without a line. Suddenly he's regretting leaving his grapple behind considering how easy it would be for Damian to lose him.

They end up touching down in a corner alley near the bank and Damian rushes out into the action. Whatever gang has decided to start this heist, they took it to the streets instead of inside the bank. Money litters the ground while gang members are dragging civilians into the fray to use as shield against the few policemen there.

Nightwing runs after Bluebird who is already beating the opposition. He shakes his head, putting his concern for the boy in the back of his mind. Bluebird doesn't look like he needs it right now. Nightwing turns and begins his own tirade against the gang.

As he fights, the earpiece crackles on. "Want to count?"

Dick laughs openly at Damian's poorly hidden eagerness. Some things about him don't change, and apparently endless competition with Dick is one of those things. "I'm already at three out."

"Five and counting," Damian returns.

Dick blocks an incoming punch and twists over the arm of the assailant, knocking him out with his elbow, "Four."

"Eight."

"What? You're lying!" Dick avoids another hit, tripping the attacker.

"I am simply faster than you, Nightwing." His tone is full of pride and certainty, reminiscent of the days when he was Robin showing off to Batman, in field or out. It hits Dick with a wave of nostalgia faster than he can comprehend and the next words are out of his mouth before he can stop them.

"Why did you leave?"

For what it's worth, Damian's breath hitches is surprise. "What?"

"Why!" Dick breaks between each word to deliver a punch to another gang member, "Did. You. Leave?"

Damian sounds infuriated, "This isn't the time to talk about that!" Dick can hear the yell of someone through the mic and from the background, "Besides, I didn't see you jumping to stop me at the time."

"You told me you were going away to find yourself, which I understood because I did the same thing when I was younger! You _didn't_ say you were going to disappear for three years and cut out everyone from your life except _Jason_!"

"It wasn't that hard to find me and I still didn't see you trying!" Damian returns.

"Is that what this is about? That I didn't try to stop you?"

"That isn't what it was about!"

Dick is so caught up in their conversation that he misses the thug who runs at his back. He's shoved forward and he hits the ground on his knees.

"Nightwing!"

Dick spins and kicks the thug back, jumping up to his feet. Few thugs are left, most being taken care of by the police now that they have backup. He paces back a few feet and bumps into Damian.

"Okay, so maybe you were right. Bad timing." Nightwing concedes.

"-_tt_-" Damian agrees.

They hear the cock of the gun before they see it. A trembling thug is holding it in front of Damian, intent clear. He fires before either of them can surge forward to disarm him. Dick acts before he thinks, pushing Damian roughly out of the way. He can feel the bullet cut through the fabric on his thigh and graze his skin.

"Nightwing!" Damian shouts.

He stumbles back, eyes blurring briefly. So maybe it was more than a graze, but he doesn't think the bullet is lodged in his skin.

He feels Damian grab him under the arm and shoot off his grapple, bringing them both out of the fray and onto the closest roof. Damian drops his arm and Dick sinks to a squat, keeping most of his weight off the bad leg.

"Damian, what? You can't leave the figh-"

"The gunman was the last one standing." Damian says. His expression is unreadable, "Don't push me out of the way again!"

He stands up and strides to the other side of the roof. Dick runs a hand over the rip in his suit. He can't feel any blood, which is good. He gets to his feet and follows the boy. His leg doesn't trob as much as he expects, which means the bullet probably only nicked his skin and he wouldn't have to go out of commission to heal. "If I hadn't pushed you out of the way he would have shot you and it probably wouldn't have been in the leg."

"What if he hadn't hit you in the leg?" Damian turns on him, hands in fists, "Then _you_ would have died and it would have been_ my fault_!"

Dick stares at him, "Damian, it…" He pauses with a sigh and reaches up to peel off his mask. It goes against everything he's been taught but if there's one thing he learned with Damian as Robin it's that Damian needs solid evidence to believe anything. Dick has never been good at keeping his emotions from his eyes, and Damian knows.

"What are you doing?" Damian hisses.

"Damian," Dick continues, "It wouldn't have been your fault. You understand that right?"

The teenager gives Dick a look that is haunted by ten-year-old fears and misgivings, "Yes it would have."

"And you say I never change." Dick sighs, "I pushed you out of the way because I don't want you to get hurt. It was my choice."

"And it's my choice to believe that makes it my fault." Damian replies. He tenses when Dick reaches for the edge of his mask.

Dick pulls it off against the ingrained warnings in his head that anyone could be watching. He puts his hands on Damian' shoulder, looking the boy in the eyes, "Damian, it's not your fault if someone cares about you."

Damian stares at him for a few moments. "You care about me?"

"Of course I do!" Dick cups Damian's face, "I thought you knew that."

Damian glances at Dick's fingers in his peripherals, "You'd die for me?"

"Always."

Damian reaches up and puts his hands around Dick's wrists. He takes a step forward and pulls Dick closer, rising to his toes and kissing him. Dick freezes as Damian drops his wrists in favor of running his hands up Dick's neck and pulling him closer. Damian stops suddenly, pulling away with a frown. "What?"

"_What_?" Dick repeats, "Damian, you just-"

Damian takes a step back, dropping his hands. "I thought…fine. Nevermind, then."

Damian turns and makes to step onto the ledge of the roof. Dick grabs Damian's hand before he can. "Wait, Damian, what? What did you think?"

Damian turns back around, "You said you would die for me."

"Yeah, but-"

"So you love me." Damian insists.

Dick falls silent, not sure how Damian is connecting the two but not able to deny it either because it's true and has always been true. It may have started out as platonic, a bond between two boys that lost their father, but Damian had grown on Dick and when he left it was like there was a piece missing from his very being.

"And I love you so I don't see why I ca'-"-

"You love me?" Dick asks.

Damian presses his mouth in a firm line, giving no response.

"Damian, you love me?"

"Yes!" Damian snaps, "I love you. I practically have since I met you! Stop repeating it!"

Dick can't help the slow smile that takes up his face.

"Stop grinning!"

Dick steps closer, bending so he can look Damian in the eyes, "I love _you_, Damian."

"I know," Damian says bluntly and Dick can't help but think that Damian probably knew before he knew himself.

"Come home with me. We can talk." About why he left if he knew how Dick felt. About why he was back. About what that meant for them.

"We _could_ talk…" Damian says slowly, running his eyes down Dick's being, "or we could do other things."

"Other things? Like wha-" Dick pauses, "Oh. _Oh_. Damian, you're-"

"Sixteen and considered an adult in my culture." Damian cuts him off.

"But…."

"I want to." Damian delivers the word with the same intensity as he fights.

"…to Blüdhaven then."


End file.
